


This Is For You

by kyluxtrashcompactor, oorsprong



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Dark fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hux is Not Nice, M/M, Power Bottom Hux, Top Kylo Ren, anxiety over death, darkside husbands, hux is nice to kylo but, plotting matricide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-26
Updated: 2016-04-26
Packaged: 2018-06-04 13:53:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6660886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyluxtrashcompactor/pseuds/kyluxtrashcompactor, https://archiveofourown.org/users/oorsprong/pseuds/oorsprong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I promise that if it is in my power you shall have it.”  </p><p>He would do anything to make it so-- anything for Ren to look at him again the way he looked at him now, as though he were basking in the thought of killing done in his honor instead of shying away from it.</p><p>“Are you going to stop being silly so we can attend to saying goodbye?  If I have to leave this bedroom I intend to leave it well-fucked.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Is For You

**Author's Note:**

> This piece exists within the framework of the series [That Unsteady Afterglow](http://archiveofourown.org/series/400483) and as such uses its terms, timeline, and context.
> 
> It is a one-off of a new series within this "universe" I would like to eventually write but haven't yet committed to.

Brendol sits on the edge of the bed and glances at the luggage he’s packed.  It seems like too much and not nearly enough all at once.  The idea of even packing for such a mission seems absurd but he has no idea how long this is going to take; maybe a couple of weeks if he’s very lucky, several months if he isn’t.  He’s not sure what to do with himself for the rest of the night.  Ren will be back shortly and then he’ll have to deal with that too.

 

It’s not as if his husband hasn’t prepared himself for this but he knows Ren like he knows himself and this is… new.

 

Behind Hux is the hiss of the hydraulics: the door opening to the quarters. He does not turn his head at first as he senses his husband’s arrival, not sure he’s ready to see the expression there.

 

Ren stops mid-stride as the door closes behind him, and he eyes the bags placed in orderly fashion on the table before Hux. Hux always packs so precisely and neatly, whereas Ren is the type to simply shove a few things in a bag if he takes anything at all. They’ve had a few arguments about that.

 

Now, Ren eyes the assembly he usually admires for its precise natures, and feels something else entirely: trepidation, revulsion. The heaviness of the Force gathers thickly around his hand and he almost stretches it forth to throw the bags from the table childishly. He doesn’t want this. That is what he tells himself.

 

But part of him knows that he needs it. He needs closure, and he cannot seek it on his own.

 

“Hello, Ren,” Brendol says softly.  

 

The tension between them is almost palpable.  It’s possible that tonight will be more difficult than the entirety of the mission he’s set for himself.  Ren never makes it easy on himself; never lets a difficult thing take it’s course without fighting it every step of the way.  Well, he’s used to that.  In some ways it’s a testament to his husband’s devotion to him.  But it makes life more complicated than it has to be.  The further Ren’s training takes him the harder it becomes for him to be in a position that doesn’t afford some measure of control.  He supposes it would be the opposite for a Jedi from what little he knows.  They had made a kind of peace with the world around them, the chaos in which it operated.  Ren _is_ the chaos and cannot bear to see it elsewhere.

 

“I’m finished packing.”  He stands and glances up into the knight’s eyes.  “Do you want to talk about it?”

 

“Yes. And no.” He crosses the space to Hux and slips his arms around that narrow waist from behind, holding him hard against him, pressing his nose into his husband’s neck and inhaling the scent of him. Like he might never know its fragrance again: clean skin and subtle aftershave.

 

“Something tells me this is stupid. This entire plan. You are not an assassin. You’re…” Ren trails off, worried that more words will simply imply that Hux is something less than Ren, something not of value, when nothing could be further from the truth.

 

 _“Nymminill,”_ he murmurs, reaching back to run his fingers through Ren’s dark hair, “We’ve talked about this.  It’s time to honor the promise I made you; the vow I made you.  I know you don’t want me to do this alone but I took care of myself until you came along.  I can do it again.  And I promise that if I cannot complete our mission I will come home to you.  I’m not going to martyr myself.  Don’t you trust me?”

 

He leans back into that comforting embrace, happy for this small blessing; Ren is upset but not withdrawing.  

 

“I know you took care of yourself before me, Brell. You took care of the entire First Order, and you could do much more. But you don’t need to do this to prove that to me. I can... “ His voice tightens. “I can live with her still out there, but I cannot live without you.”

 

“You can and you will someday,” Brendol promises, almost hating himself for it.  “I’ve watched you lose sleep over this for too long.  She hurts you with every breath she draws and I want you to stop hurting.  If this makes the demons go away then it’s worth the risk.”

 

He holds Ren for a moment, sending every soothing thought he can manage through their bond.  He knows the knight will sleep poorly without him but it’s a good trade if he accomplishes what he’s set out to do.  Pain now for long-term relief later; that’s a fair bargain, isn’t it?  Even if he risks his life in the process?  He thinks so, anyway.  Fiiranza would never let him go if she knew but if he comes back with the death of Leia Organa like a notch in his belt she will surely be impressed enough that she will not push the issue.

 

Ren does not overtly endeavor to read his husband’s mind, not without permission, but sometimes sensations roll off him, and he cannot help but pick them up. He is like a radar antenna, and he is tuned to this frequency.

 

“If you mean to impress anyone by doing this, Brendol, you’ve no need of that. Not me, not Fiiranza, no one.”

 

Brendol turns in Ren’s arms. “Stop.  Just stop.  I don’t care what Fiiranza thinks.  You know that.  And I don’t need to impress you.  This is _for_ you.  This is what I promised you, isn’t it?  When I married you I agreed to take care of you.  Let me.”

 

He puts a hand against Ren’s cheek, searches his eyes.  “I thought you understood what this was about.”  

 

Ren places his own hand over Hux’s. “I _do_ understand. I just… when you say things like ‘one day I’ll be without you and I’ll be ok,’ I know it isn’t true. And maybe there’s a small part of me that wonders if this is the right thing. I wanted my father’s death to ease my pain, but it only made it worse. And if you get caught trying to make things better for me I’ll have traded that which I value most for emptiness.”

 

He leans down and presses his forehead to Hux’s. “Though I would never let them keep you.”

 

Brendol almost smiles at that.  

 

“I know you wouldn’t, _Tavva-Silhar._  If you’re so dead set against this why did you wait this long?  I think you’re letting your fears take control.  You’ll feel better when I’m home and better still if I can bring you something of hers.  Is there something you want me to try for?”  He narrows his eyes, imagining the satisfaction of stripping that particular corpse.

 

The word “fears” stirs anger in Ren, as well as the thought of any possession of his mother’s. Anything she has she values more than her son.

 

“Her badge of office,” he snarls with more vehemence than he expects, and his eyes flick to his husband’s. Ren sees that satisfied glare lurking in those green orbs, that killer instinct and ruthlessness that he has always known is part of the man he loves. It’s like their marriage has been a cocoon sheltering Ren from reality in some ways, especially the reality of Hux himself. Ren has grown too used to his lover being just his husband, his confidant, the man who shares his bed and his heart. He has forgotten, perhaps, that Hux could have ruled this galaxy had he not given it up for Ren.

 

The thought makes his heart thump erratically in his chest and his skin warm. He finds that he longs to see Hux as his savior, his guardian, rather than some precious trinket he is afraid to break. Perhaps Hux wants that too.

 

The thought of taking General Organa’s badge of office and presenting it to Ren as a trophy delights Brendol.  He lets a knowing smile cross his face.  

 

“I promise that if it is in my power you shall have it.”  He would do anything to make it so-- anything for Ren to look at him again the way he looked at him now, as though he were basking in the thought of killing done in his honor instead of shying away from it.

 

“Are you going to stop being silly so we can attend to saying goodbye?  If I have to leave this bedroom I intend to leave it well-fucked.”

 

Ren growls low in his throat, and gathers Hux with two practiced hands on lithe, small thighs, pulling them around his waist to meet him in a hard kiss. It’s a desperate, needy kiss; Ren’s tongue hot between Hux’s lips.

  


Brendol makes a noise of utter contentment as he’s gathered back into those strong arms and hoisted up with his legs wrapped around Ren’s waist.  This is the side of his husband he’s longed to see; the side that revels in the thought of him returning a hero.  He eagerly returns the kiss as Ren moves them to the bed, wishing they had even more time to make this last.

 

Ren’s knees hit the bed and he shifts them forward, laying Hux down and grinding into him. Untangling Hux’s arms from his neck, Ren grasps those delicate wrists and pins them above his head with one large hand, still eager for his mouth. Ren’s other hand snakes down between them, unbuckling Hux’s belt, tugging it off with a hiss of leather against cloth, and tossing it away. Then he unbuttons his trousers, and doesn’t even bother to unzip them further before he pushes a hand inside to grasp his husband’s growing erection. All the while he tastes his lips, his tongue, the warm flesh of his neck, feeling their pulses rise together.

 

Brendol groans into the touch, struggles to free his hands, and realizes with a thrill that Ren is deathly serious about keeping him in this position.

 

“I want you to fuck me,” he whispers between passionate kisses.  “You can hold me down.”

 

“Do you?” Ren rasps against Hux’s throat. “You want to feel me inside you like it’s the last time? You want to go away with my seed still inside you?” Ren is fully hard now, and he opens his own pants, making no move to do anything but draw his dick out. Once he does he tugs Hux’s trousers roughly over his hips, then suddenly releases his hold on him.

 

“Turn over.”

 

Brendol eagerly complies, rolling onto his belly and kicking off his pants.  He pushes his undershorts down around his thighs, trusting that Ren will either rid him of them entirely or keep them there if he’s in the mood.  There’s a jar of lubricant in the nightstand that he’s avoided thinking about until now.  He hasn’t allowed himself to hope for this possibility-- that Ren would not only come to an understanding but still want to enjoy this with him on what could possibly be their last night together.

 

“Do what you will,” he mutters over his shoulder, unbearably turned on by the thought of Ren taking him rough and hard.  It’s been too long since it happened that way.

 

Ren reaches over to the nightstand and grasps the bottle of lube, slicking himself before setting it aside, and then he takes a moment to admire his husband. Pushing Hux’s shirt up to reveal pale flushed skin, he bites his lip at the way the color trails all along his sides, his thighs, his perfect ass which is presented for Ren’s pleasure. What turns Ren on the most at this moment is that he knows after looking into those fierce green eyes moments before that he could never have talked Hux out of this mission, that the man prone before him was not submissive. He belongs to Ren because Hux wants to.

 

With one slick finger, he traces his husband’s ribbed entrance, and then slides in to the first knuckle. They have both been busy these last few weeks; falling into bed too exhausted to do more than cuddle before sleep takes them. Ren finds himself impatient now, not wanting to take the time to work Hux open, but he slips the finger in further, almost willing Hux to fuck back onto it. To show him how eager he is.

 

Brendol shamelessly wiggles into the touch, unconcerned with how desperate he looks as he works himself open on Ren’s finger.  He _is_ desperate.  The desire to give over that control to Ren has been building these long weeks and he can’t wait a moment longer.  

 

“I’m ready,” he says, pressing back and sending every fierce desire back at his partner.   _“Claim me, take me, hold me down, play rough with me.”_

 

Ren grunts at the force of the words, and needs no further encouragement. He withdraws he finger and takes his cock in hand instead, only briefly massaging Hux’s entrance with its leaking head before he rolls his hips forward and fully sheathes himself in his husband’s tight heat. Ren’s mouth falls open with a groan, and one hand finds Hux’s hair and fists in the ginger locks.

 

“Make yourself come,” he orders him. “No touching.”

 

The command sends a thrill through Brendol.  He pumps his hips back against Ren’s crotch, pressing into the mattress with a moan and silently begging Ren to fuck him.  There’s only so much of a rhythm he can work up pushed into the bed like this.  He tries anyway, wriggling against Ren and working his hips in frustration.

 

Ren realizes he is taking all the pleasure for himself, for even though Hux’s rhythm is erratic, every thrust feels amazing.  There is a copious amount of prohibitive clothing on his husband’s part. Without warning, Ren pulls out and strips the pants from Hux’s thighs, tugging them over lithe calves, and dropping them to the floor. Then he seats himself on the bed and roughly pulls Hux up by one arm, guiding him into his lap. Ren is still fully clothed but for his slick cock.

 

“There,” he smirks at Hux. “Go to work.”

 

With a huff of irritation Brendol kneels over Ren’s lap and guides his cock back where it belongs.  He holds on to the knight as he works himself on his erection, panting against him and sweating from the effort.  

 

When his own cock brushes against Ren’s tight stomach he gasps as if in pain.  

 

“You like… watching me… do all… the work…” he manages, throwing a glare at Ren without any heat behind it.

 

Ren only grins at him and leans forward to capture his lips. It is a sloppy kiss, barely connecting as Hux works himself towards his climax. The color rises in Hux’s cheeks, every brush of friction against Ren drawing small noises of need. Ren can feel his own release building, coiling in his belly.

 

Without warning, he wraps an arm around Hux’s slender waist and tips him back, following him down, so that Ren is now on top. Hux’s legs wrap instinctively around Ren’s hips as the knight plunges into him, the slap of wet flesh growing in intensity.

 

“Harder!” Brendol cries, shocked at the raw need in his voice.  He fists the sheets in his hands as Ren fucks him, clinging to him with clenched thighs and sheer determination.

 

Ren slams into him, panting, reaching up to grasp Hux’s wrists again, pinning him to the bed hard enough to bruise, until he realizes he can no longer resist his own urge.

 

 _“Come with me,”_ he begs, burying his face in Hux’s neck, teeth finding purchase as he loses control of his body, and his orgasm spikes through him, racing along his spine in waves of liquid fire.

 

The command is enough to push Brendol over the edge at the same time.  He wrenches a hand free, grabs Ren’s hair and tugs it as he ruts up against his stomach, spurting against him with a brazen cry.  He sinks back against the bed, shuddering in his release.

 

They lay this way for some time until suddenly Ren begins to laugh. “This was the only pair of intimidating black robes I had in our quarters at the moment. You’ve ruined them.”

 

“And whose fault is that?” Brendol murmurs into Ren’s tangled mass of hair.  “Take them off.  You aren’t allowed to wear anything to bed tonight.  I might want you again.”

 

Ren rolls off him, still laughing. “Oh might you?”

 

He begins peeling the layers of clothing from himself lazily, not bothering to sit up, so that he is reduced to an undignified writhing that anyone would be sure to laugh at. As he slowly manages to strip naked, he can feel Hux’s eyes on him, and the high of his recent orgasm begins to gradually slip away to be replaced by the understanding just below the surface of his consciousness.  Hux’s hyper arousal could very well mean he believes this might be their last night together.

 

By the time he has shed his clothing, tossed haphazardly in whichever direction, he is no longer laughing but frowning, his thoughts turned dark. He stares up at the ceiling, not wanting to look at his husband, despite the fact that Hux can surely see his face as he props himself up on an elbow beside him.

 

“What’s wrong, Ren?”

 

Brendol reaches for him, startled at the change in the mood.  He wonders if maybe it was a mistake to take things so quickly.  He expects Ren will want to get it out of his system several times but the drastic shift in his expression pulls at his heart.

 

Ren takes a moment to compose his expression, but it’s not something he has ever been good at: one of many reasons he prefers to wear a mask. He wishes he had one right now. Brendol has tried on more than one occasion to persuade Ren that the knight can and will carry on without his husband some day; that to do otherwise would be irreverent. And then he wonders if Hux feels this way every time Ren goes to do battle with the Resistance. Finally he sighs and pushes his emotions aside so that he can turn his head and look with clear eyes at the man he loves.

 

“Nothing is wrong, Brell,” he lies, for his husband’s sake.

 

Brendol takes in Ren’s expression, watching and listening for those telltale signs that will show him how to proceed.  He settles for wrapping his arms around the knight and pulling him close again so they can lie chest to chest.  He buries his nose in Ren’s shoulder and runs a comforting hand over his back.  Tries to tell him without words that he understands the apprehension, but this is important and he doesn’t know how to make Ren come to terms with it.  It’s the biggest hurdle they’ve faced since Snoke and Brendol is loathe to admit that if it backfires he’ll be leaving the First Order with one entirely unstable Knight of Ren; perhaps more dangerous to the fleet than to the Resistance.

 

So he holds him. There’s nothing else to do.

 

Ren lies in Hux’s embrace, stiff at first with his fear and doubt, and then slowly relaxing as he feels their heartbeats synchronize, their breath rising and falling at the same time. The knight begins to lazily stroke the skin on Hux’s back, drawing patterns from memories, lines traced from freckle to freckle: constellations Ren had long ago named.

 

 _“Tahas rahurill,”_ Brendol murmurs against his suffering husband.   _You are my home._

 

He lets his fingers twine in the dark hair he adores, knowing it comforts Ren.  

 

“What wouldn’t I give you,” he adds.  Ren knows the answer to this; knows there is nothing within Brendol’s grasp that he wouldn’t offer him.  He only has to ask.

 

“Only a lifetime with you,” Ren mutters, “and everything after.” He realizes there is a certain bleakness to his tone, still an element in his words that begs Hux not to do this, but that tone is always there when he thinks of life without this man.

 

“I would do the same for you,” he adds. “Give you anything you want.” He strokes his hand down Hux’s spine, gently feeling each ridge, each dip, until it nestles at the hollow of his lower back.

 

“Then give me tonight,” Brendol counters.  “Give me all of you and I’ll help you to forget.  If anything happens…”  He shakes his head, wondering when he became so sentimental.  “No, I don’t want to think about that.  I’m coming back home to you.  This is just to keep me warm in the weeks ahead when I’m missing you.”

 

Brendol smiles a little, unable to help himself.  “You know I’ll miss you terribly.”

 

Ren summons a smile and kisses his husband’s neck where the sweat of their exertions is only just drying. “Which part of me will you miss, exactly?”

 

He knows Ren is playing with him, teasing him for an answer that might reignite an interest in other activities but he takes the question to heart, clutching one of Ren’s large hands and drawing it to his chest.

 

“The part that reaches for me in the middle of the night just to hold me.  The part that wakes me up too early because you’re already awake and you don’t want to be alone.  That restless spark inside you that drew me to you.”  He gazes into Ren’s eyes.  “You have no idea how much it pains me to be apart from you.”

 

Ren draws back from him, his eyes slightly misted, for he has never been good at hiding feelings. “That’s not fair,” he grumbles. “I don’t speak poetry.” He slides a hand down Hux’s backside, playfully pinches his ass to emphasize the point, but Hux can tell he is touched; knows he feels the same way.

 

“So,” Brendol says, grazing Ren’s mouth with his own, “How many times do I have to make love to you to show you how serious I am?”

 

  
Ren grins at last and kisses him. “At least one more time.”


End file.
